Guess What?

Last Friday, I drove myself and Kate to our weekend sports getaway in Charlotte, NC. Second weekend in a row. It was a perfectly normal road trip, except for lots of construction on one stretch of I-85 through SC and NC which made my knuckles white and my pedaling foot tired. We arrived at our hotel, got parked and checked in, and then quickly drove to the site of the first basketball game of the tournament, to watch our boys' team.

I found a seat on the bleachers. The phone buzzed. "Guess what" from Alex.

It was around 5:30; I thought for sure the cats had finally knocked over my vase of flowers from Valentine's Day. But no: The next message was this:

Y'all, I was overcome. I loudly gasped right there in the gym. Thank goodness I was with friends, who were so sweet and congratulatory and understanding when I got SO teary. OUR BOY IS GOING TO COLLEGE. What a moment. WHAT a blessing! Bless dear Alex, for sharing it with me! My heart still gets going when I think about receiving the news. 

It's been hard, since he didn't apply early decision, seeing lots of his peers start receiving their letters already. I thought we would have to wait all the way to March, so this was a huge surprise in the middle of February.

Of course, he still has 2 more schools from which to hear, before he makes a decision. But this utter RELIEF that yes, he WILL go to a university and not be resigned to the commuter college down the street (which is a good school, but you know). 

HE DID IT.

Happy New Year - Let's Review

I read S's year-end review and, as usual, thought it would be so lovely to write one of my own. I do like that particular set of questions and have answered them many times in the past, though I can only seem to find 2015 & 2016. Last year I just did my own thing for 2019's review (also in 2018). And actually, I like to write my thoughts down on paper, if I've kept a paper planner, which I have the last couple of years after a long hiatus. My own format works for me, so here is what I wrote in the last few pages of my planner this year (I did this on Dec. 30 or 31):

The 2020 good stuff:

• Got what I've long wanted: nearly full-time WFH, with time for carpool pickups, not aftercare. 100% flexibility. Would have done extracurricular volunteering, if there'd been any to do.
• Grateful for the time - EXTRA - at home with Alex and Kate, that I never would have had otherwise. For walks in midday, for lunch breaks together and dumb/fun TV shows, for helping each other.
• Grateful for our health, through all of this year's pandemic; no one in my immediate family has been sick (let me add that Kate got over her sniffles after about 3 days, as did Shawn, who got them immediately after Kate. We didn't have either person tested and I don't know if that was right or wrong.)
• Grateful to still have our jobs, after collecting unemployment for the first time in my life this year during 4 weeks of furlough.

Goals accomplished (because I did actually have a few, back in January '20):

• Painted hall/entry, kitchen, & den, all lovely new shades of grey
• Bought a new (Sleep Number) bed like we wanted to do, and we LOVE it
• Spring gardening successes
• Visits to P'cola, Savannah (5, 2 -- more than usual)
• Bought a car for Alex (thanks, Mom and Dad!)
• Felt appreciated at work - made myself the best helper I can be
• Didn't stress about goals
• Made Christmas as fun/happy as we could
• Lost 15 pounds. Worked out an average of 134 minutes/week in an attempt to lower my cholesterol (which didn't work, thanks, Genetics, but at least I tried - I'm now on medication for it)
• Saved on groceries by setting a budget and shopping at Aldi/online
• Set a clothes budget (not sure if we saved anything, but at least there was the intent to save, lol. It's hard with a pre-teen girl, I'll say that for sure, but I'm working on my acceptance of it -- kids need to have clothes they like, after all)
• Read 30 books, although this wasn't a goal, just a nice thing I had time to do

Things that could be improved:

• Church attendance. Mixed feelings here. We've been under full dispensation since March, so really it's OKAY! No one would fault us for it and there's no need to confess anything! Ha! But am I neglecting my kids' faith formation by mostly ignoring virtual Masses online? I just can't stand watching the ones our parish livestreams. Should probably try other parishes but... meh. 
  Not singing in the choir anymore is still strange to me, but I think the right choice. I needed a reason to quit, because it was absolutely no longer bringing me joy, and the pandemic was a good reason.
• Taking care of my parents. Perhaps I'm not alone because of Covid, but I'm feeling a lot of guilt about this right now. I hate that we don't live in the same town as them, I can't drive them to doctor's appointments or heaven forbid, ER visits, which they had this year; and that they aren't in our Covid bubble. Same with Shawn's mom; she's living by herself, and her oldest son isn't there to help her out. I hate it. Christmas was nice, quiet, but caused a lot of guilt, if I'm honest. Logically I understand that our life is here at the moment, and I know all of our parents are okay with that. Thankfully, they're mostly healthy and doing GREAT without our help! Not to mention it was safer this year to stay apart at Christmas! But it's easy to feel like we're somehow neglecting our duty as children. I'm trying to remember that everything has a reason, and that God is not the God of guilt, and doesn't want me to feel bad. But it's what I'm wrestling with, especially as the pandemic goes on. 

So, how to sum all of this up? 2020 happened. We did puzzles, we made masks, we over-bought (hoarded) toilet paper, we did online school, we mostly stopped going to restaurants except to pick up food. I'm actually happier, thinner, and richer, and I never answer those questions that way.

I can't WAIT until we can all get vaccinated, and Alex can return to a normal marching band (senior!!) season, and Kate to a normal Drama club season, with all their godforsaken fundraising needs. I will raise the heck out of some funds if they can just have their fun back. I'll take what I learned and really appreciate things more. Incidentally, we watched Pixar's "Soul" on NY's Eve and it was the PERFECT way to wrap up a year when finding joy in the little things was the only way to function. 

I'm greatly looking forward to 2021, with a small spark of hope. Hope you are, too.

Remember this.

Yesterday, Mother's Day, May 14, 2017, Kate is 9 and I am 43.

On the way down the stairs at home, dressed and ready for Mass: She takes my hand to hold.

On the way out of the church, in the beautiful sunny day, chatting and talking: She holds my hand again.

On the way to the car after a lovely brunch: She takes it a third time. I looked down at her hand in mine, and I just want to remember how it felt, how natural and soft and sweet it was, forever.

Also, twice during the day, my nearly-teenage son kissed me on the cheek. Once when he was directed to by his Dad, for a photo op, and another time while I was just sitting at the kitchen table. He just came right up to me and leaned in. Stayed a while, too, after the peck on the cheek, just side-hugging me.

I do like Mother's Day, quite a lot.

Anniversary

Fourteen is my lucky number.

And on this day, fourteen years ago, right now, I was having my hair done for my role as THE BRIDE. What a lucky girl I have been, then and now.

This morning I woke up, gathered up my gift and card to take downstairs to the kitchen table to leave waiting for him, when he got up. Of course, he had already beaten me to the punch, and I found a gift bag with my name on it right by the coffeemaker, where he knew I would see it. Two beautiful new charms for my Pandora bracelet, exactly the ones I was hoping for. (He's been filling up charm bracelets for me since we started this gig, the first one being a tiny diamond-ring-shaped one, the night he proposed.)

I don't know how to say all the things I feel about our marriage and our relationship, and they're not the things for a blog anyway, really, but this morning I am definitely thinking about us, reading the tales and memories I've managed to capture, and how it has been so perfect all these years. I want to bathe in it. I feel secure in it.

You still make me laugh. You make me smile (even when I don't want to). We go well together -- work, play, tedious or exceptional days. That's love, that's marriage. That's all there is to it. xo

Shawn & Lee

Est. 4.28.01

Just a small wish

KT Baby. BAY-BEE. She's still so little sometimes, in my mind.

I remember this same day in her brother's educational timeline, like it was yesterday (possibly because I re-read that post a lot). KT's was similar, today. We packed up the car this morning with all the heavy bags and books, shiny clean school supplies, sharpened Ticonderoga pencils. Naturally she has a bright pink, sparkly Barbie backpack. She heaved it over her shoulders like a pro. She wore one of her many princess CROWNS all the way there. (I suggested we take it off when we got there, and lo and behold, she complied.) She walked confidently down the sidewalk with AJ and me; we were laughing about a song she was singing to herself. She knows the building and walked right in, no hesitation.

And then of all the darndest things, my little social butterfly, who fears nothing and no one, clammed up. She was welcomed and greeted with huge smiles from the teachers, and she replied with quiet little one-word answers. Like her mother would have, at that age! Bless. her. heart. I have never -- wait, let me think... no, not really -- seen her act shy in her life. We unpacked her bags and packed her desk while she sat, taking it all in. She found her cubby, she looked around at the available toys and books, and I think she was pleased... but you know what? It's a whole new ballgame. I never would have guessed nervousness for this child, but there it was.

The other night, we were getting her ready for bed and she asked me, "Mommy, will I have a best-best friend at my new school, like Alyse (her BFF now)?" And, OH, how that got me right in the heart. I said, "Oh, YES, sweetheart, I know you're going to have a best friend at your new school. You're going to have lots of friends." That's a mother's only wish, really, isn't it? That she have one friend.

Well, and that she'll have everything. Everything.


P.S. I did cry, this morning at the daycare, dropping them off after Orientation, for the very last time. I knew I would (and you did, too). 

Of sighs and whispers

I’ve been trying, at least this week-ish, to be more fully present in the moments, especially the ones with the kids. I know I mentioned particularly that on Thursdays I only get to be with them for a couple of hours total, all day. I need to stop reminding myself of this because when I type “couple” it makes a stabbing pain right in my heart. But that’s not the point, the point is the Moments. Whether we’re reading or playing, or looking at pictures on the iPhone, I’m just wanting so much to enjoy them and be my best self during them.

It’s getting harder with AJ because one, he’s a jumping, squirming, knees and elbows and head-butting wonderful boy. When he tries to climb up on me for hugs and cuddles I have to watch out for my spleen. And he always manages to grind his kneecap into my femur. But he’s still up for hugs and cuddles so I try not to complain. And two, his playtime is so complicated now. He asked me yesterday to please play Jack and Annie with him. So I tried to be Annie, but I don’t remember these books word for word, and he apparently does. He gets mad when I try to use my imagination and say, “Ooh, Jack, here’s a BUG! Maybe Merlin needs it?”

“MOOOMMM, there wasn’t a BUG in book nine hundred and eleven, [siggghhh].” Or else it's a Bakugan battle, about which I only know, "Bakugan, STAND." And that's not nearly enough for him. ;)

But with KT, it’s a bit easier. She likes to lay on the bed together, nose to nose. Sometimes we giggle, sometimes we sing (current fave is Jesus Loves Me, which just sends sunshine through my veins), most times we pretend-bite each other’s necks, and get each other’s sugar, and play with each other’s hair. It’s delectable.

And last night – she’s been waking up in the middle of the night again, either from some molars coming in, or just because she thinks it’s fun – we lay in the dark, trying to wish sleep’s heavy return (at least I was). Everything’s hazy and in whispers but I do know that she, at one point, brushed my hair back from my face, like I do for her when I lay her down every night, and patted me on the shoulder with her soft little fingers. And that pat... wow, do I ever treasure sweet moments like those.

Snide (and awesome)

We got the kids’ portraits done Sunday, which is always a festival of fun. They were actually very well-behaved during the session, and we took them for ice cream afterwards. Then, we needed to run to the sporting goods store for AJ – he’s grown so that last spring’s baseball cleats no longer fit, and practice begins today. WELL, that was the straw that broke his back, and the whining commenced. He didn’t WANNNNNNT to do another errand, we had already been TWOOOOO PLACESSSSSS, he hadn’t had any time to PLAAAAAYYYYYYY, and it was going to take too LONNNNNNNGGGGG, waa waa waa like a 2-year-old even though he is now six, and much too old for tantrums (as I tell him all-too-frequently). [Pause for breath.] We managed him into the car, calmly told him he had just been given a TREAT for goshsakes', we couldn't understand him in his whiny voice, and got going anyway.

He settled down for the most part, but was still sniffling and kicking his feet on the back of my seat (I KNOW)... when we heard one declarative comment from KT’s side of the car....

“You’re a baby.”

It was monumentally hard not to laugh right out loud.

Solve for X

Sometimes the time I spend at my office doesn’t even feel real. When I think about it from far away, at night or in the fog of my next morning’s shower, I think, “Did I really spend 8 hours there yesterday? Seated in that same position, looking in the same direction at the screen? A full day?” It can’t be.

I talk to people, sure. Through the cubicle wall as we both continue with our work-tasks. During lunch breaks. Or on the phone, irritated as I am whenever it rings. I talk to strangers or to people I only know marginally. They’re not the people that truly matter to me. I don’t feel engaged. I don’t actually feel loved by these people, or that I’m bringing them love.

Not that I remember, every day, that my purpose should be bringing love to others. I don’t. My purpose should be taking care of my family, and I achieve that, working to bring them food and shelter and a living. This isn’t a post about wishing to stay at home. But I think, “This is not meaningful. This is not living, doing. It’s sitting.” What I'm fretting over is my fulfillment. I think it’s the sitting that makes it seem so unreal. Our lives tangled up in wires and wireless, and keystrokes and data, and websites and typing – how can that be real?

I wonder, is it up to me to make THIS daily existence more meaningful? Or is it critical to find something else that would engender its own meaning? Something where I stand in front of people, or hug them? Or touch the earth? Or laugh about whatever thing we’re doing? Not that I feel I’m an extrovert. Far from it – I keep a semi-anonymous blog, for heaven’s sake. I’ve never cared for group projects. But spending the day doing something WITH people seems more acceptable than, at the end of the day, closing up the laptop, bidding my neighbor goodbye and wondering if either of us really SAW the other at all in the last 8 hours.

I’m not a save-the-world type. I don’t mean that. I don’t even know that I’m looking to solve a problem. But the sitting still, I just don’t know. It doesn’t feel real, sometimes, looking back at it. I wish I would at least get something out of it, some recordable emotion.

Time ticks away and it feels strange to just accept this.

Off we go...

No stopping him now! AJ, we are so proud of you today. :)

One Hundred. Thousand. Percent.

Kindergarten Orientation went so well yesterday. My parents are here to babysit during this week, since school doesn’t start until Thursday, so they went with us to school and I’m so glad they got to see it, and meet the people who’ll be shaping AJ’s little heart and mind for the next year! I’m pretty giddy over the whole thing and it just confirms the fact that I loved school myself. Loved!

Anyway, yesterday we checked in, were warmly greeted with a gift bag, then first-thing signed up for the Extended Care Program (morning and after-care) – one part of New School about which I’ve fretted because it’s been a huge “unknown.” The coordinator was extremely kind and really put me at ease. Not to mention, the line for ECP was the longest in the whole cafeteria, so it isn’t like AJ’s going to be lonely, an After School Special of “without-his-mommy-sadness” and a soft spotlight, for all to pity. Heh. I think he’s going to have fun with Mrs. L. They do homework, play in the gym, and have to be personally checked in and out, which means I’ll get to park and go in. Score.

After that we bought some school spirit items – a T-shirt so AJ can wear jeans on special “spirit-days,” if he also remembers 50 cents and a canned food item to donate, and a metallic decal for my car-line-ready Highlander! Eeee! Logo items! (Blue and gold, naturally. In my old job we always laughed at blue and gold. EVERY school’s colors are blue and gold.) Our car-line number is 170.

We got our Publix “1%” keychain cards and learned about Box Tops for Education, and the annual magazine drive – the same company my high school used of course, and GAG ME how I hated the magazine drive. Bleh. I wish they’d choose a different fundraiser, seriously. I’d prefer Sally Foster to magazines. Oh well. If that’s the low point, I guess that’s pretty good.

Then we went to the classroom. There were reams of copy paper and tubs of baby wipes lined up. Paper towels stacked to the ceiling! And DESKS. Each kid has been assigned a seat with a name card already taped to the top. We put crayons and glue inside the little cubby under the desk – AJ was so eager to do so, he heaved our reams of copy paper out of the bag himself. Heavy reams! His adrenaline must have been surging.

Mrs. C. tried to talk to him a little bit – she has a slightly annoying, but sort-of cute, habit of tacking “Baby” on as her nickname of choice – “Did you go swimming this summer, Baby?” (I had a 4th-grade teacher who always said, “Darlin’;” I was annoyed by that, too.) But I think she’s great and was actually hoping we’d be assigned to her classroom. AJ was visibly nervous, singing to himself and kind-of jumpy and giggly, and wouldn’t really answer her questions, but that’s okay. Who wouldn’t be nervous, right? I didn’t push him (much)... and I can just feel those butterflies in his tummy. I will all week, I’m sure.

Last night, I laid down with AJ before he went to sleep and told him how much fun I’d had with him at school. I told him I was “jumping up and down on the inside, I was so excited.” He asked me, “Are you One Hundred… Thousand… percent excited?” And I gave an emphatic, “YES. Are you?” He nodded and squirmed into his pillow.

Two days left to wait.

On the eve of turning four

This weekend we packed up a cooler and took it to our favorite local playground and park. AJ was eager to feed the ducks, after he'd seen Daddy fold up the almost-finished bag of Sunbeam Sandwich White. My sister is with us; we wanted an "outing." We got to the park and thus began the BEST DAY OF AJ'S LIFE! Oh, he was up, he was down, he slid and he climbed. He was BRAVE! (He's never been brave at the park. Never.) We fed ducks for a while, and then playgrounded for a while. He tried new things, and then he tried them again ALL BY HIMSELF. He was obviously showing off a bit for his aunt. He got a sweaty little-boy head and showed us big smiles and happy feet. His Dad and I were so excited to see him having that much fun.

Then, it started to look cloudy. Dark, even. We had seen the weather report, that indicated a thirty percent chance, but decided to have our picnic anyway. ...Mayyyybe should have reconsidered that choice, but I was convinced it wouldn't be that bad.

...It was. Thunder, SERIOUS lightning, very close by, even a couple of pellets of hail, and nothing between us and it but a wooden pavilion. And my little boy, all of him, climbed up onto me and curled around me and buried that sweaty little brave head, and held on tight.

It was so perfectly four -- a teetering balance beam between being big and being little.

Happy Birthday, little man. I will walk this way with you.

Big strong man, swallowing his emotions

Yesterday, I bought AJ his first backpack. I had wanted to find one before Easter, but didn't manage it, so even though I told him, "We're not buying anything fun, just stuff we need," I broke my own rule. He was thrilled -- it's dark blue with a menacing Spiderman on the front of it.

When his Daddy came home, he showed AJ how to put the now-heavy backpack on his shoulders. AJ had filled it with every book he could find downstairs, and several issues of Sesame Street magazine. He could barely walk. But he did. Stood up as straight as he could, and, arms out for balance, slowly came toward me. "WOW, AJ, you are just like the big boys at school with that backpack!"

This morning after we got him dressed, he put it on again and clunked down the stairs with it bumping each step behind him as he went. "I look COOL with my backpack, isn't it, Mama?"

And then. We had been telling him he couldn't take all those books to school. I think there's some rule about no toys from home. I'm going to check with his teachers today, but we told him all morning he had to take the backpack off, just for today. When it came time to load up the car, he wailed. Two big crocodile tears trickled down his cheeks and I thought we were in for it -- another difficult drop-off. "Honey, we'll ask your teachers and maybe tomorrow, okay?" He considered, then repeated that last sentence. "I will ask my teachers." Then he took a deep breath and put down the backpack. "Maybe tomorrow if I want to take it to school, I can."

And that was that.

Dance party!

First, some dancing that took place at my house yesterday.



(One of the many reasons I am loving 2-and-a-half!)

Next, some legendary dancing -- Click here -- because:

• zefrank makes me laugh every time
• his last day of vlogging is fast approaching (sob!)
• this was the video that started it all for him
• Parties are for Dancing!

Enjoy!

Peppp...eroni Pizza

It's hard, after a long vacation, to focus this feeble mind. (Heck, it's hard for me any time of year.) The following thoughts are about as random as The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (which my husband has been trying to watch for about 2 weeks now).

...December 23rd, "Christmas Eve Eve," the men went to the Thrashers game, and us girls (me, Mom-in-law, and The New Girlfriend of my Bro-in-law) showed AJ how to have a Christmas slumber party. We made cookies together -- AJ did the red and green sprinkles -- snacked on crackers and spinach dip, and sang along with ABC's annual gift of The Sound of Music. His eyes widened when Do-Re-Mi began, since that is one of the main night-night songs I've used since he was an infant (it can go on forever if need be, and Mr. Colicky often needed-be). I was quite pleased that he recognized it. He also liked "Yo-lay-ee, yodel-lay-ee, yodel-lay-hee-hoo" with the goats. :)

...several times while we had company I declared it was time for my shower, and luxuriated in having 5 very capable babysitters who'd have to ENGAGE. (Sometimes it seemed I was the only one willing to actually play with AJ -- down on the floor, entertaining him. It's my instinct I guess, it's just what I do.) He can play by himself, but shouldn't have to if so many folks are around. Anyway, if I up and left, SOMEONE was going to have to get up from the TV, or put down the Zune, or the phone, and Watch.The.Child. They did. AJ got to know which ones would toss him around and make him giggle, and which he could count on to make Play Doh pancakes with syrup. I took great satisfaction from this. And really long showers.

...Christmas morning, AJ threw us for a (fruit) loop. He came downstairs, was slightly intrigued by his Santa presents, which were unwrapped, for about 11 and a half minutes, then declared he wanted his breakfast and a movie. This kid is nothing if not anchored by a routine. Never mind all the gajillion interesting wrapped presents under the tree. We watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his daddy, and then kinda blinked at one another in disbelief. (Don't fret, he came back later and got his paper-ripping on.)

..."Ma? Mo-mm?" Just a new word he's picked up lately, especially when I venture beyond where he can see me. I can't decide if I love it or hate it.

...STARBUCKS GIFT CARDS in my stocking. Plural. Squeeeeeeee.

...Is it me or is Bravo draaaaaagging this Top Chef series right out? Sheesh! Bring back Blow Out, I say. Actually it's really AMAZING the dearth of television worth watching these days. Last night I attempted to sit down with Inside the Actor's Studio. The guest was Matt Damon. Seriously? A total snore.

...Let's not even talk about how much food was eaten by me over the holidays. (See also: Title of post.)

Hope upon hope

Yesterday AJ and I were sitting in the kitchen floor -- I love that expression, don't you? "In" the floor? It sounds like a playland -- paging through all of his artwork from November. Usually his wonderful teacher sends it home once a week, but I guess she's been busy. (Of course she has! I can't imagine being a daycare teacher. It blows my mind, what she does in one day.) There were orange pumpkins, and a spider made of two handprints pasted together with the fingers pointed outward (some October stuff, too), and a pilgrim that was colored all BROWN in long, swipey scribbles, and several letters and numbers which I will paste onto the dishwasher so we can look at them at eye level every day for a week or two.

AJ *loves* artwork. He calls it that, too. He actually seemed proud to be showing me all these things. At home, we have watercolor paints, a plastic smock, and an easel, and that has fast become his favorite activity other than watching videos. I just love watching him choose a color (always in succession, brown, purple, then green or blue, then yellow/orange/red, then black - the order they sit in the tray), then carefully choose a spot to paint (he always paints a character's eyes first), then he kind-of bounces while dipping his paintbrush in the water, dripping on the way back up to the paper -- it's so messy, and yet so purposeful. And magical.

Anyway, as we were sitting there and I watched him thumb through his pictures, I started to really hope that I am doing enough for him. Not in a down-in-the-dumps way, just because he is such a precious little person. Growing up so fast. I want to do everything, give everything, be everything that a child -- THIS particular child -- needs to grow and thrive.

I hope that sitting in the floor with you is good enough. I hope that canned vegetables are sometimes good enough. I hope that going to Publix after school is okay with you, and even fun sometimes. I hope that quiet weekends at home -- rather than family trips to children's adventure museums or the proverbial playdates -- are good enough. I hope that *I* -- me, the little person that I am, the nothing-more than my own small brain and my own heart -- am doing right by you.

...That Radio Song!

I just have to post this because it is hilarious and SPOT-ON. My favorite Thursday 13 list from A Flyover Blog:

13 Christmas Songs I Never Want To Hear Again (HA!!)

1. My Favorite Things by Rod Stewart. This is just wrong. Rod Stewart bears no resemblance to Julie Andrews.

2. Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree by Jessica Simpson. Why is this girl still around? She can't sing, act or talk, yet she's everywhere! Go away... and take your sister with you!

3. Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon. The most pathetic holiday tune ever penned. (Emphasis mine.) Guaranteed to induce severe depression. Makes me want to fill my pockets with heavy rocks and wade into the river...

4. I Wonder As I Wander by anybody. Just plain odd. Gives my a tiny chest pain every time I hear it.

5. The Gift by Aselin Debison. Can't sing. Can't sing. Can't sing. (never heard this one but I'm sure she's right)

6. The Christmas Shoes by Newsong. I detest this wretched song! Emotional manipulation on an unparalled scale. Whoever wrote this convoluted piece of Christmas drivel should be brought to the town square and flogged! There, I feel better now.

...click for more! It's worth it, I swear.

In response, and to shake those awful tunes out of our heads, I will list here my FIVE FAVORITE, pleasant-to-hear, happy-inducing Christmas songs.

1. "Sleigh Ride" by Johnny Mathis, Any Grant, or the classic orchestral version. I can't decide; I like 'em all.

2. "God Rest You, Merry Gentlemen" (choral). The poetry of the lyrics, the harmonies of voice, the minor-to-major resolution at the end...? PERFECT Christmas tune.

3. "Here Comes Santa Claus" (by I don't know who)... AJ's favorite, apparently. "Come Here, Santa Claus," he says. This cute-ism, I know, will live forever in our family lore. I'm trying to learn all the lyrics. I love the end, "So let's sing praise to the Lord above, for Santa Claus comes tonight." :)

4. In Dulci Jubilo. You're not going to hear this on 94.9 Lite FM. Too bad, because it's so upbeat and LATIN. Was my favorite performance in my college chorus (possibly because I had a small part in the special quartet).

5. I Pray On Christmas, by Harry Connick Jr. Not a traditional carol, but it's one of the 4 or 5 albums that I drag out every year.

"I pray on Christmas (Oh, sweet Jesus)
that the sick will soon be strong,
I pray on Christmas, the Lord will hear my song,
I pray on Christmas that God will lead the way...
and I pray on Christmas He'll get me through another day."

About all we can ask, right? :) (Boy, is it hard to just choose FIVE!) Oh wait. I have to put this one:

"Jingle Bells," by Herb Alpert. HA! What am I DOING with this album?? I don't know, but I love it. I wish I could attach a clip because it's so funny and loungey but I don't really know how to do that.

Anyway, happy holiday listening!

Between feet

This is my Blogging 4 Books entry.

It's hot and steamy out, 5:00 pm, July, Georgia... NOT, I can assure you, my favorite time to be out of doors, especially when there's cold tea in the fridge and conditioned air to be savored. Wouldn't you know, that's exactly the time yesterday that Napoleon, our dear almost-ten-year-old lab/chow, starts jumping out of his skin, desperate to potty. Again. (It is going to take some getting used to, this "older dog" thing. Nap's had a bladder of steel his whole life, being raised from birth as an apartment dog. But no longer. Have yard, will pee.)

When Nap starts hopping one foot to the other, AJ joins the club immediately. He KNOWS it means he's going to get to play "ow-hide." With two of 'em whining, what can I do? I sigh, grab the Off wipes to towel us down, and step out holding my breath, facing the humidity.

It actually isn't so bad. We have pretty large trees all over our property, so there's at least a bit of shade. And since the birthday, we've got all kinds of new toys to occupy the 15 or 20 minutes that AJ's attention will likely last. The orange bubble gun is his first favorite: Kajillions of grape-scented (yes.) bubbles with just one pull on the trigger! And I get to be proud of his developing manual dexterity -- a "handy" skill for bubbles, har har. He chases 'em down, wanting to blow them this way and that way, and we drain the soap tray twice, then he quickly gets on his new toddler-trike and I push him around the driveway. It's like he's in a race to accomplish as many toys as he can before dinnertime. Next up, the soccer ball.

We're not really a soccer family. Neither DH nor I ever played it, never have watched it much (maybe one high school game when I thought I was crushing on the class soccer guy), and we don't even know anyone who plays regularly. Of course, we both grew up before soccer-moms were soccer-moms, before every mini-van in town had That Sticker on the bumper, before the World Cup was cool. But AJ, he's a little boy, and little boys need! things! to kick and throw, and so that is what he begins to do outside in the evening heat. And then Daddy arrives home. And then interestingly, everything somehow slows down a little bit and the light seems softer.

"Heeyyyy, AJ," DH says in his gentle Savannah accent. "How was your day, Buddy?"

(AJ's very busy placing the ball in an azalea bush, then knocking it down.)

"Kick it to me," Daddy suggests.

And AJ does. He sets the ball down in front of him and taps it with his little foot. Daddy taps it over to me. I steer it gently with a graceful kick try not to trip over it and manage to bare-foot it back in AJ's general direction.

"Now AJ toon," he says to no one in particular. He toddles over, stops, studies the ball, and kicks it again, right to his Daddy. And so our little triangle continues -- DH and me chatting, grinning, AJ trying new moves here and there, and giggling when he has a big success -- for a good long while, until finally I remember that the spaghetti sauce inside needs stirring. I leave the boys to their moment.

They don't come in until later, both a little sweaty and pink-cheeked. I just smile, hoping that in their lifetimes, they'll share a lot like this, between their feet.

The time of his life

Dear AJ,
I have never been more thrilled than I was to watch you turn two this weekend. You are my big boy now! Your smiles -- both spontaneous and "pasted-on," which you now can do on command -- are bigger than the biggest sun, and full of so much life (and teeth!). When your grandparents arrived on Friday and you made laps around the house, giddy with the excitement of your impending party, it made me feel like a kid, myself! I wanted to squeal with delight that you were so delighted. You knew that all the attention was meant for you, and I wanted you to just revel in that, even letting you stay up WAY past bedtime because you were having so much fun. It's fun for me to witness that -- I don't think I've ever seen you happier. This weekend you built race-tracks out of wooden blocks with your Daddy, and I know that meant so much to him. I can't believe you played that game for 30 full minutes! You rode your trike ("bike") and let "ebber-body" push you up and down the driveway, telling us to go "Dat way." You ate cake, with a fork, at a table -- a bit different from last year's headfirst dive into blue frosting! And you blew the candle out. (It was fun practicing that.) You DANCED! Something you've not cared one whit about before. You played with your friends, and even though you made that pleading, "Nooo, that's MY toy," face a few times, Mommy knew it was all a big act, and in the end you shared. You behaved when we went out to a fancy dinner, AND... as if a switch has been magically flipped, you, at two, are EATING! I can't tell you how much THAT pleases me. I'm not sure why you didn't sleep well -- why you're going through this little stage where you call out and cry for me multiple times in the night -- but I hope it's just because you've been so wound up for four days, and we'll get past it. This weekend, you constantly asked, "Where my pah-ty?" and "Where my boh-day?" -- hands up, questioning -- and melted my heart a thousand times.

I am so glad you had fun, Sweet Boy. I am so, so proud of you!

Vacation by the Numbers

Number of my relatives who joined us at the beach: 60

Number of times I used a hair dryer or wore makeup while at the beach: 0

Number of days it took before I could let go of all my annual "beach issues," like worrying over too much scheduling, too many cousins, etc., and just relax: 3

Number of toes I had pedicured with my sister: 10

Number of dread diseases I contracted while at the beach: 2 (strep and pinkeye)

Number of dread diseases DH contracted: 1 (pinkeye, in 2 eyes) -- AJ caught none, thank God

Number of grapes AJ ate: 400

Number of times a day he therefore pooped: at least 3

Number of times he poured water from one plastic bucket to the other: infinite

Number of hours per day he napped, being so tired from sun and surf: 2.5 or 3

Number of ER visits: 1 (not us, but poor G! Hope he's feeling better!)

Number of times we watched the duck movie: lost count after 14

Number of dollars spent on clothes at the outlet mall: approx. $300

Number of sunburns we got: zero! go us with the sunscreen!

Number of times I wished I could be back at work: negative 80

Number of times I was grateful: probably not enough

Number of weeks until next year's vacation: 51

God uses Clorox

I read this post at one of my new favorite-est sites yesterday, about cleaning products. I'm not a huge fan of cleaning, but I do like to live in a clean home, so recently I embarked on the Great Bleaching of the Tile project here at my casa. It went well. I sat on the floor and scrubbed all the grout in our master bath, and BOY, does it look good. It took a minute to get used to, since the outline of every tile appeared to have been erased. It looked like a "blank" floor there, for a while. But it thrilled me to have removed years (yes! years!) of nasty foot residue. (I'll wait while we all *shudder*.... twitch, twitch, *shudder again*... okay. Sorry. Shake it off.)

Last night, inspired by all the Clorox-talk over at Mir's, and needing to disinfect our place from AJ's recent hoarde of germs, I donned the blue gloves and got busy again. This time, the downstairs half-bath. It, too, was in grand need of a washing, and this time I wore gloves because last time, my knuckles actually started to bleed from scraping the floor with bleach as I worked my sanitizing toothbrush! (Don't you feel sorry for me?!) Anyway, last night was a good time to do it. I was tired, and DH was working very late, and AJ had gone to bed, so it was just me and my thoughts and the *bleach fumes. (Note! fumes!)

For some reason, a church song got stuck in my head; I think because of the rhythm of the scrubbing, which was very even, just like the straight rhythm of the eighth notes in these verses. The words go,

"If-an-y-one-lives-with-Me,
Then-they-must-die-with-me,
If-you-hold-firm-you-will-reign-with-me..."

And I wondered to myself, What does that really mean? To die with Jesus? It is, of course, to suffer with him. We always hear, "one must die to one's self." Accept God's will instead of our own. Surrender. The heart is willing but the flesh is weak -- it's not easy to do this. It's suffering... but that's the key! Jesus' death was full of pain, and suffering. And yet, He did it. He didn't want to go through what he went through. He Begged his Father to make it go away. Much like I beg! But if we are to live with Him in eternity, we must die -- suffer -- too. Pretty powerful stuff. I also started thinking, as I Cinderella'd my floors, about the Latin phrase I've learned from the very wise Selkie : Ancilla Domini. I love when she posts under that category -- it means, "handmaid of the Lord." Maid -- handmaid -- Cinderella -- cleaning lady. That's the connection. (Remember, I'm buzzing on fumes by this point!) You know who said ancilla domini, right? Mary! 2nd-best example of accepting God's will! Maybe she "DIN't WANNA" be a mom right away. Maybe she was planning on being an artist, and selling her pottery in the market! Or maybe she simply wanted to enjoy being a housewife for a while. (I know, I know, gender roles... she probably would have been pregnant within a week of her marriage anyway, but who knows what she was thinking. I can adapt the story a bit for the sake of my self-serving-sermon!) But she said, "I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me according to thy will." A phrase I need to embrace and embrace again. Every. day.

The bath was half-done at this point, when another appropriate song drifted without warning into my consciousness:

"We shall draw water joyfully,
singing joyfully, singing joyfully,
We shall draw water joyfully
From the wellspring of salvation."

Quite funny, since I was, in fact, drawing (rinse) water from the pink bucket to my left. But again, there was a message: Do your work joyfully. Of course I was joyful to be doing this work (Feet! goo! *shudder*) -- but I asked myself... is there some work, perhaps, in my life, that I do not do joyfully? Hmmm??? Perhaps my clean bathroom floors are God's intention to help me, as I've asked Him to do, learn to accept things in my life with less resistance. Less muck, less whiny b.s. in my heart. More joy. (Not that you should accept the status quo or not try to change your situation, if it's bad; but you know what I mean, right?)

Of course these are all things I've known. But I was happy to have them revealed to me again, in a way I could understand, in the moment. SDW, it was one of those tiny whispers you talked about. :) I'm not done with this topic; I would like to absorb it all and really start living it, but we're all works in progress, all the time. I'll likely never be finished with the work of surrender, because it's hard. Harder than scrubbing floors with a toothbrush. But the reward is similar: Clean floors! Clean heart!